A/N: Hey Everyone! How are you all doing? Enjoy the latest! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Natasha clutches her elbow, pushing open the door to a quiet home. With the creek of the door she steps forward in a search for Alex.

She whistles and reaches up toward a folded paper left on the key rack. Banner's handwriting is easy enough for her to recognize, a scrambled two lines about finding her next clue for a makeshift scavenger hunt. Natasha bites her lip as she dismisses the day's activities in favor of an in home adventure.

Searching above the bookshelf she finds another paper. Her third is tucked under the coffee table with a reference to her pillow. The spy speeds through her puzzle and lifts a sixth paper;

'A propitious chance awaits an analysis in the place where you dance.'

Natasha rolls her eyes and heads toward her mini studio. She opens the door with eager anticipation;

"Vrach? Alex?"

Her puppy charges forward as she opens the door, taking in the softly lit space. Her jaw loosens over the candles placed along the piano. The scents mixing pleasantly with the fresh Calla lilies.

Bruce is holding a small pill bottle, waiting opposite the piano as he sorts his experiment;

"Hi Tasha."

She smiles, making her way over after greeting the shepherd;

"What are you doing? Why is my piano your new workbench."

He melts over her sweet and simple kiss, hands stroking his shoulder. He grins and adjusts his glasses;

"Well. You're home earlier then I thought, I didn't have time to make it pretty."

Natasha smiles sincerely. She slips the papers onto the piano and takes the bottle from him, "My husband's drugging me."

He exhales and turns to press his back up against the large instrument;

"It's a mild mockup. There's a fraction of trazodone, risperidone, and a couple of my own mixtures. I can go over exact percentages-"

She sighs, "Hmm. How romantic."

Bruce continues in an explanation as her arms slip around his waist. He reciprocates with his mind still racing;

"It's completely safe, it's not addictive, you shouldn't have any side effects-"

"Uh huh,' she presses her lips onto his, 'You can stop talking now."

His eyes stay open through her action, "Um. I called SHEILD. Fury in particular."

Natasha holds back a sigh, "For what."

She releases her hold on him. He tugs at the back of his neck, "I, got Olga out of the center. I got a hold of Fury and- well. He argued at first but, ultimately agreed."

Romanoff shuts her eyes, her jaw twisting with a sense of frustration in her voice;

"Why."

"Because I don't want her near you or the kids,' he answers pointedly, 'Why are you upset about this-"

She snaps with her emotions getting the best of her, "I have it under control. What did Fury say?"

He lifts and holds his shoulder up, "He just said it would be better if I could tolerate it a little longer and I can't."

"Bruce, you're touching things that don't need to be touched. Why are you getting involved?"

Banner drops his jaw, "Why are you mad at me for taking the initiative to protect our kids-"

"They're not our kids! Okay? They're SHEILD property."

Natasha's eyes widen, her emotions taking over her usual firm stance.

"If that's true, then I'm out,' he shakes his head with a disapproving stare, 'this isn't you Natasha."

Romanoff holds her forehead, opposite hand on her hip as she breathes, "This is an undercover operation I've been running for a year."

"I get it."

"If this blows up then everything I've done for the past year goes to hell. Every mission, every trip out of the country, every crime lord I've captured..."

He holds his expression, arm crossing over his waist with his fingers clenching;

"Talk to Fury then. I'm sorry. I didn't think I was wrong in trying to protect you."

She snaps, "I don't need you to protect me-"

He scoffs, "I'm not going to just wait in the lab, wondering if my wife is going to get shot today."

"Why can't you trust me."

Banners eyebrows lower, reacting to the lump in his throat. He tightens the grip around his torso and shakes his head with a clenched jaw.

She presses, "Please. Tell me; What have I done to break your trust?"

"Nothing."

"Bruce."

He angrily glances upward with a soft voice full of restraint;

"I'm not okay with leaving the kids at risk for the sake of an undercover operation. If you want to jump into the line of fire, that's your choice. Don't force it on them. They are not you and this is not the red room."

"They're not in any danger. Clint, Maria, Steve- we all have it under control. You would protect them if need be."

"Sure."

Natasha tightens her jaw as he tries to walk away. She reaches to grab his arm;

"Bruce...you know I can't tell you everything."

He forces a grin and pauses,

"For someone who can read people so well, you've been struggling with me."

Natasha swallows as if to force all emotion away. She can read him. She's chosen not to until now;

The current hesitation in his step is because he waits for her. Her eyes shift to the light tremble in his fingers as he hands her the vial- he's angry over the comment on the children. His eyes are lowered;

"Twice a day. Take it with food."

Romanoff takes the bottle into her hand. Their brief contact; he loves her.

Natasha's current level of pride restrains any thought of apologizing. She hardly realizes Alex's chasing after Banner, bitter over her husband's exit from the apartment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Oh. My. Goodness,' Pepper stumbles with her jaw agape, 'Is that...?"

Lucy chuckles over Pepper's entry into the living room. Her fingers stay busy with the video game controller, eager to beat Thor in their questionable method of murdering their victim.

"What? My nose ring?"

Thor interjects as he shifts in his own beanbag to block an attack;

"She resembles a true worrier! The vibrant color of her hair and the fierceness in her choice of metal self expression...Lucile! You have a second victory."

The teen raises her hand to high-five the demigod. Pepper closes her jaw with a second thought, taking back the comment she is about to make. With the tuck of her head she dodged the entrance of a green she-hulk in her jog suit;

"Oh Pepper! You're going for a run?"

The woman looks upward, hesitant over her eye contact with the green figure;

"Oh my. I mean I was-"

"I can do another two miles-"

"I'm good-"

Antonia charges in, her soft white rabbit tucked under her arm, "Mama!"

Pepper releases a heavy exhale, quick to change her expression and to crouch to embrace her baby;

"Morning Ana."

Stark enters behind the toddler apologetically , "Sorry, she won't go back to sleep."

Thor interjects as he and Lucy begin another game, "My offspring both sleep and rise with the sun."

Tony shakes his head over the remark, "Nobody asked."

Jennifer laughs in her green form, "Stick to a schedule. Offer a calm environment."

Lucy scoffs with her eyes focused on the screen, "Always calm."

"...Make sure Antonia stays in her own bed."

"Otherwise mom will scare you into a bedtime."

"Routine is the key."

"Until she locks you into your room and throws away 'the key'-"

"Lucile! I've never done that!"

Jennifer's snap intentionally echoes. Her teenager laughs louder, throwing her head back;

"Calm down mom."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, I'm the parent, you're the child!"

"Love you mom."

"Aww, I love you too."

Thor lowers his guard with a nervous laugh in imitation of the teen, "Ah, we are laughing."

Tony and Pepper share a glance, holding back a chuckle.

Clint enters with a snarl, suited up with a light jacket;

"Lucy!"

Jennifer pauses over the shout, surprised over the tone. Her eyebrows lift when the teen jumps into action. Lucy reaches for the bow at her side, and scrambles to her feet. Walter's tilts her head;

"What's happening..."

Barton forcibly softens his tone over the one word and heads for the gym, "Training."

Stark shrugs, "It's a Sunday..."

Clint narrows his focus, "Oh I'm sorry, so the bad guys take the weekends off?"

Lucy runs past, leaping up to peck her moms cheek on the way. Jen grins over her daughter's enthusiasm, watching with a proud and yet pained expression as she follows the archer.

Thor lifts his game control and tosses it forward over his fifth loss of the morning;

"Perhaps I should re-evaluate my strategy?"

Tony leaps over the couch toward the beanbag and grabs the now unclaimed controller, "Try it one more time."

Pepper crosses her arms and talks out the side of her mouth. With her thoughts still on Lucy she mumbles;

"A nose ring? At 15? Really...?"

The she-hulk gives a solid glare anyone would surrender over. Pepper nods and shifts her focus forward:

"Never mind. It's the silver- the stud, it's a- good choice...I'll

shut up now."

Jennifer nods slowly, hand over her hip;

"Call me when Antonia turns 15."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bruce twists his jaw with frustration, ready to wrap up his findings with a mind made up to free the hulk. His realizations is the morning leaving him confused and and ready to explode;

"JARVIS? Let Tony, or, somebody, know to keep an eye open for the other guy."

"Yes doctor. I have alerted both Mrs. Walter-Jameson and Tony Stark as per Master Stark's present installments," the ai responds.

"Thanks."

"Shall I alert Mrs. Banner-"

"No thanks,' he pauses, 'Can you block her access to current programs?"

"Shall I list them?"

Banner sighs, "No just, the last two that were open."

"This include the personal file for Natasha Romanoff's students; Izabella Mikhailov, Riley Proctor, Amelia Lenkov and Lucile Jameson, all opened 24 hours ago. Should I proceed?"

He crosses his arms thoughtfully over their conversation from the night before. Her response to the Olga situation leaves him somewhat distrusting.

Bruce instantly regrets the emotion. With a heavy swallow he makes a call based on his instincts to protect each of the children from a primary threat rather then a suspicious Black Widow;

"No...Just delete all personal information from both the tower and center for each of the students."

"Can you confirm this request-"

"Code Red, 9894,' he considers a cover, 'Initiate it as a system malfunction. Program 12. Provide a limited access to records of their training and abilities for a minimum of 2 weeks only to the corresponding primary mentors. Block any and all access to anyone using a SHIELD access code indefinitely."

"And for the second program? I am

referring to tests on Gamma Radiation and the effect on the average human mind-"

"Block Natasha."

"Shall I enter a new passcode?"

"...'Kolkata 815'...Can you clear Natasha's medical information related to this from Tony's records?"

"Possibly. I will need his confirmation-"

He scoffs, hoping to hide his recent discovery from the engineer and ultimately the team, "Right. 'Cause that makes sense...Make the information on the prescription accessible so the dosage can replicated by Tony. Hide the documents from SHIELDs access codes."

"Anything else Doctor?"

"...Can you get me access to Black Ops documents? Olga and known associates. I want a list of every agent SHIELD encountered with an able to get into the human mind."

"In reference to nightmares and hallucinations?"

"Anything involving the mind. Then give me a readout from the center with the same criteria."

Bruce feels his chest collapsing underneath the weight of his stresses. With a hand caught in his curls he fixates forward with a vacant expression.

The knock on the door incites a response.

"Pause JARVIS,' His voice cracks, willing to only talk with the engineer, 'Yeah...?"

Natasha's hesitant voice is unexpected;

"Can I come in?"

His eyes soften over her entrance, molars clenched over her uniformed appearance. He shifts toward the secondary screen in the laboratory and swipes through his files. With a bit of anger and numbness he focuses on his work.

Natasha swings her hands forward, clapping as they meet in front of her torso. She speaks softly to judge a reaction;

"How'd you sleep?"

She can see his muscles tightening through his navy blue button down as he refuses to answer. Romanoff bites her lip, attempting to reach him as she proceeds further into the room. She stops at the desk and invites herself to his folder. Skimming the pages, she addresses her husband with his back to her;

"I think the medicine helped. I stayed in bed all night..."

Bruce twists his cheek and pauses briefly in his work;

"Where's your mission."

Natasha taps her hand over the desk, "It's local. Just some minor damage control."

"Your suit full of weapons doesn't exactly say 'minor damage control' to me..."

She sighs, "Well. It's 3 days, this is just for day 1."

Romanoff waits. He doesn't answer.

Digging into her pocket she located her 5 bill and leaves it on the desk;

"Can you get this to Izabella? I lost a bet we made back at the hospital. You took longer to read your books then I thought."

Natasha steps back with a straighter face, prepared to walk out the door without a response. Firmer then usual she nods and turns to make her way out;

"I'm sorry. What I said yesterday about the kids. I know they're a soft spot and I shouldn't have targeted that..."

He grits his teeth and tosses the tablet once in his hand onto the desk. He wants to talk, but with her impending exit he decides there's no point. With his lenses removed he reaches carefully for her wrist;

"Natasha, wait."

She turns hopefully, her large hazel green eyes looking up into his. His fingers gently brush a stray hair behind her ear, still holding onto her wrist with the other.

"Just...be safe."

She offers a closed mouth smile, "I will."

His soft hands cup at her cheeks and pull her lovingly into a kiss. Her eyes close as she gives in, hands lifting over his forearms to ensure he doesn't release her too soon.

His hands stay over her face as they part. With a pain in his eyes he stammers;

"I don't..."

Her hand lifts over his as she tilts her head, "I know."

"Can I hold you," he pulls her in close as she nods, both at a loss for words.

Natasha lays her head on his chest, feeling his one hand wrap tightly around her waist and the other behind her head. His heart is pounding and there's a slight tremor in his breathing only she can pick up on. She lays her head still and returns his embrace.

Bruce holds her close with his mind racing. He focuses on the far wall, trying and failing to hide his natural fretting from Natasha.

Any need for a conversation will once again have to wait if she's putting aside all personal issues and conflicts for the sake of yet another mission.

He brushes a hand through her hair as they part;

"Don't get shot."

She playfully runs a hand through his curls, "Don't run away."

He watches her with a hint of suspicion and words he's longing to say at the tip of his tongue. With the clicking of the door he's ready to replace his lenses. There's a nagging in the back of his head, veins pulsating with a vibrant green. and doctor can feel a growing loss of control he's fought all night.

The AI interjects;

"If I may, your heart rate is increasing steadily. Shall we pause in the research?"

Banner's teeth clench, tired of Natasha's lack of communication. Knowing he'll break her trust, he presses forward with a request he's justified in his mind;

"No. Open Natasha's mission logs from the past 6 months."

"The Black Widow has installed a passcode and requires multiple security clearance-"

"129280615. Clearance code 'R3D.'"

"Access denied. Clearance code invalid."

"Clearance code...geez, 'Stalingrad'."

"Access denied. Clearance code invalid."

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose with his temper bubbling up, "Give me a prompt."

"Causam meam."

The doctor scoffs over the Latin, turning back to the screen in a surrender;

"God only know 'her reason'...'Redemption'..."

"Denied-"

His voice softens in one final attempt almost jokingly, "Tell me it's '129289625 Vrach'..."

"Access granted."

His head lowers immediately, hands shoving into each other with a light punch. He shifts with a humbled expression with a bit of regret for snooping.

The artificial intelligence responds to fill the silence;

"Is there anything else?"

"No,' Banner shakes his head, hesitant to give into his curiosity, 'Thanks."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Why are you stopping! Keep shooting."

Lucy lowers her arms despite Clint's urging. The buzzing shoots upward through her bicep as she prepares herself to sit;

"Give me a minute! Loud mouth. I don't have stamina."

Barton narrows his focus on the young teen, prepared to test her endurance as he snaps;

"Look out!"

She dodges into a forward role and aims quickly to shoot two quick arrows behind with a slight cringe. He huffs over her quick response over his fake attack;

"Too slow. And your form is sloppy."

"Ahh!" She forces her aim, unintentionally pushing herself harder over his words.

"Sloppy! Are you even aiming? Stance! Fix your arm."

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

"It's been a frickin hour!"

"Push! Harder! You think you get a break on the battle field?!"

"No..?"

"Really? That's all you've got!"

"No!"

"Maybe I should find someone else."

"No!"

"Tired already? Aim! Are you even aiming?! Watch your stance!"

"Stop!"

"Pick up your arm. Focus. Calm your mind or you'll hit a teammate with that attitude."

"You're hurting my zen!"

"Shut up and shoot!"

"You shut up!"

"Spineless woman-"

She growls back with a shrill, her eyes flaring in their vibrant yellow with a tinge of gamma flowing through her veins. Her target appears more clearly, her movements suddenly fluid. Lucy grits her teeth and fires 8 arrows into the center of her target in a matter of seconds.

Her arms fall, letting the weight of her bow fall onto the ground in pure exhaustion. She waits with her head dizzy, eyes fading back to their normal brown. He raises a hand with a sudden friendlier expression;

"You beat every record."

"What?,' she consents to a high-five, completely missing his hand, 'What record."

He shrugs, "Just everyone I've ever worked with. We don't push 20 minutes."

Lucy's jaw drops with a fury, watching the archer make his way toward the door matter-of-factly. She scoffs over their hour and a half session with no breaks;

"You, mother- Ffff-"

He winks, "See you tomorrow for actual training," and let's the door fall behind him.

Lucy falls with a sudden wave of nausea. She looks up as her world spins, greeting her mother's no doubt supervised entry;

"Hi mom. Did you see that?"

Jennifer crouches with a chuckle over her daughter in her sweaty mess;

"I did baby. I love you, to the moon and back."

The teen grins, sitting up with a sudden stomach ache. She spirals with flushed cheek, "I don't feel so good...I'm gonna throw up..."

Jennifer can't restrain a smirk in her human form, "Oh I remember that well. You're transforming and returning too quickly. Pace yourself. Try to gain control in the peak of your transformations and nothing less. Don't cut them short...Let's go see Uncle B. I'm sure he has some method for relief."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Banner can't help but laugh over her facial expression, no doubt held for a laugh;

"Hold this,' he lifts a cold cloth over her head and offers a warm tea, 'It doesn't get easier hitting such an uncontrollable low point."

Lucy stares hopelessly toward Bruce while Jennifer laughs;

"What are you talking about? Uncontrollable initially, sure but. Your highest stage is the peak of all humanity. It's strength, intuition; the pinnacle. Other then vision are you feeling anything else?"

Lucy shakes her head with a vague open mouthed expression. Banner forces a smile and sits beside the teen at the workbench to offer a small ginger based tablet;

"Sure Jen. Whatever you say...Swallow this Lucy. And close your eyes. Your probably experiencing a sort of vertigo. It will pass."

Lucy lets her head fall into her forearms, forcing the towel to stay on her forehead.

Walter's widens here eyes as Lucy hides her own, mouthing toward her cousin; 'Is she okay?!"

Bruce nods with a mouthing back,

'She'll be fine.'

Walter clenches her lips and tilts her head slightly toward the physicist;

'Promise?'

He nods. She accepts it with a heavy sigh and a hand over her daughter's back seated across from the doctor.

The teen grumbles with her mouth pressed against her arms. Jennifer leans closer in an attempt to translate;

"I can't hear you baby."

Lucy flicks her head up with enough force to keep the towel over her head;

"I asked if you were staying longer."

"Oh,' Jen glances toward her coyly shrugging cousin, 'Well. No. I was going to leave tomorrow...I have to get back to work...unless you want me to stay-"

Lucy holds her head, "It doesn't matter. Will you come out for Thanksgiving? And Christmas?"

Jen rubs her daughter's back, surprised to hear the teen planning that far ahead, "Of course...yeah. You could come home for winter break."

She bobs her head forward to make the damp cloth fall into her hands, "Yeah. I guess. Or you could come here."

"Already enjoying New York life huh?"

"Obviously,' Lucy lifts her chin, 'Where's Aunt Nat?"

Bruce forces a vague, unsure smile, "Off on a mission. She'll be back on Wednesday."

The teen nods with approval, "Cool, cool. Maybe she'll teach me how to use a pistol."

Jen shakes her head, "One weapon at the time, for the love of science."

Bruce scoffs to himself over her remark, busy swiping through his document. Lucy leans forward on the table, trying to scan his page;

"What'cha reading?"

Banner looks up, slightly caught off guard as he rapidly moves to shut it down; "Gamma...? Physics...? Nothing interesting."

She shrugs, "I'm interested."

Jennifer imitates her daughters enthusiasm with a loving grin. She can sense his dismay over not having Natasha around, eager to distract him with one of his passions, "Do share."

The doctor forces a grin, not wanting to discuss it's exact contents;

"Well...it's complicated."

Lucy glances playfully toward her mother, eager for a common ground with her highly praised Uncle she hardly knows;

"Well, we have time. So, talk away."

Jennifer nods in agreement, sharing a knowing glance with her cousin as she tries to read him.

Bruce can feel her eyes trying to peer through his, purposely blocking them with the distraction of Lucy;

"You're interested physics?"

She laughs, "If by into you mean begrudgingly discussing the concept in a boring science class then yeah."

"Okay,' he laughs, 'Well I'm analyzing the forces and how they'd respond to a gamma infusion in help Izabella in her warp...well. Let me back up. Think about when your dancing, when you're turning, how much force is needed to leap higher- that's all physics."

"I heard dance."

Lucy leans forward without a second thought, earning her own knowing smile from Jennifer Walters.

The lawyer sits back with her arms crossed at Banner begins his explanation. She glances between the twosome, his enthusiasm and analogies to dance encouraging Lucy to ask questions on a topic she normally would have no interest in.

Suddenly the lawyer is 10 years old again, hearing her then 14 year old cousin giving the same analogies and scientific breakdowns for a successful triple pirouette. Lucy's reaction is similar to her own, jaw opened slightly in complete focus as she hangs on every word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lucy stumbles through the hallway, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Against her will she admits the loss of her mom to herself. There would be no quick flight to California anytime soon, no sightseeing at Huntington Beach anytime soon. She clenches a fist with each hand, recounting her words before heading to the airport.

Lucy rolls her eyes over her own thoughts, brushing the blue bangs from her forehead. She reaches for her phone to send her mom a text;

'I miss you, you beautiful beast. I love you."

She glances downward at her phone over the swift response;

'To the moon and back my sweet yellow eyed Elphaba!'

'Safe flight mom. Don't rip up the wings.'

'Just one...?'

'No, mom. *facepalm*'

'You! You go pay attention in class. Or I'll sick the hulk on you!'

'Fat chance. Uncle B likes me."

'I know he does. :)'

'I miss you already.'

'I miss you too baby. I love you so much!'

Lucy catches the lump in her throat, having never been separated from her mom for more then a few days. In an unfamiliar atmosphere she pushes through. Alone in the hall she lifts her foot, vans pressed up against the wall as she runs a hand through her deep blue pixie cut.

Her eyebrows lower over a familiar Russian accent coming through the doors to the auditorium to her right, lips pursed as she pushed through the two large doors.

The teen stands up against the back of the wall as she observes the auditions with a mouth wide open, her backpack falling from her shoulder.

Izabella's sweet smile through her semi proficient singing of "Summer Nights" in a duet with the blonde haired freak. The flush in her cheeks for each time John passes causes Lucy's molars to grind aggressively. Her stomach churns over the smile over Izabella's sweet features and John's cryptic touches over her shoulder.

Lucy is startled from her focus as Brody settles beside her with his own arms crossed;

"Puke worthy."

Lucy closes her mouth with Garret making his way to her opposite side;

"So much for her 'training focus.' She didn't even tell us she was auditioning for this dumb play."

She tests their feelings, "What's the big deal?"

Brody scoffs, "That blonde twerp came over last night, uninvited, to 'rehearse'!"

"So?"

Brody forces Lucy's shoulder round to face himself, "What's wrong with you? We hate don't like him! Remember?"

Garret shakes his head, careful to avoid his own teenage confession;

"Are they dating...? Not that I care or anything...like that. She's just pretty- you're pretty too Lucy. Is this a bad time to ask about the winter dance?"

"What about it."

"Nothing- it's stupid. It's stupid right?"

Brody drops his head into his hand, "Smooth, bro."

Lucy grumbles, "So you're both morons. How old are you Garrett?!"

"Uh," He stutters, looking over his shoulder for no reason.

Lucy rolls her eyes,

"You both see this, you both hate it and you're not going to audition? Even just to supervise?!"

Brody shrugs, Garrett shakes his head 'no'.

"Hold my backpack,' she focuses forward, her glare targeted at the blonde as she forces her way toward the instructor as Lucy and John finish their finale chord, 'Excuse me! I'm interested in auditioning."

The instructor lifts her glasses suspiciously, unable to recognize Lucy;

"And you are?"

The teen wrinkles her nose and makes her way into the spotlight on the stage. An oblivious Izabella offers a smile with a thumbs up. The older teen focuses on the instructor;

"Lucile. Lucile Jameson."

The suspicious instructor lifts her lenses;

"Alright Miss Lucile Jameson. And what will you be performing for us today?"

She catches the stare of the blonde haired hunk, as she nods toward the pianist;

"Hit me with something empowering so I can knock it out of the park."

The kids chuckle. The teachers glare:

"We need a song Miss Jameson."

Lucy just shrugs, "'This is Me' in D major."

Izabella smiles over the selection and silently claps. The teacher nods begrudgingly over Lucy's firm confident nature;

"Alright, she knows the key. A friendly reminder Miss Jameson, we don't permit any unnatural hair color or facial jewelry during school hours. I will allow it today but I expect a professional attitude from you here on out. Is that clear?"

She grits her teeth and nods forcibly. The teacher shakes her head, "Whenever you're ready."

Lucy takes her starting position with her focus falling subconsciously on a completely supportive Izabella. Her ankle length rolled up denim jeans tug only slightly as she works the stage and draws in each member of the audience with her vocal strength. Her ability to work in her subtle drama technique as she continues to engage her audience almost naturally;

"When the sharpest words wanna cut me down

I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown 'em out

I am brave, I am bruised

I am who I'm meant to be, this is me

Look out 'cause here I come

And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

I'm not scared to be seen

I make no apologies, this is me..."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Natasha groans on her cot, cringing over the pain shooting from her shoulder. She addresses Olga's aid with a nod. She swallows and abruptly cuts off her helper with her eyes closing;

"I'm really fine. Thanks."

The Russian offers a seemingly empathetic gaze Romanoff deceivingly returns. The woman narrows her focus;

"You'll need a couple stitches-"

"I'll be fine."

"How is your shoulder."

Natasha shakes her head, pillow underneath her sore neck;

"It really doesn't matter...did Bruce call?"

The woman widens her eyes, "No...as usual. No offense, but aren't you more worried about tracking down the infamous crime lord?"

Natasha forces a smirk and reaches her hand forward, awaiting the actual criminals relinquishing of her personal device;

"Right now, it's late and I want my husband."

Olga returns Natasha's device into her open hand and makes a face full of contempt;

"I don't trust that man."

Romanoff lowers her eyebrow, shifting slightly as she lingers somewhere in between being and spy and a wife;

"How come."

Olga shifts, on her knees beside the assassin's cot;

"Well. He dismissed me from the Center the other night. Abruptly. He seemed on edge. Don't you worry about him exploding one day on those poor innocent children?"

The red head forces a vague expression as she ignores her inner thoughts;

"I admit haven't entirely considered that as a possibility."

Olga nods, "Well. It's definitely possible. I didn't want to say anything but he's been teetering. I even saw his eyes flare green two weeks ago. It felt almost out of control."

Natasha is conscious of her pitch, "No way. That's not Vrach."

Olga stands with a tilt in her head;

"Believe what you will. I'm sharing facts."

"He's just overworked. I'll talk to him."

"I would advise you to do more then just talk to him. I would alert the team to keep an eye open for any suspicious activity."

"We always do."

"The agents seem to be avoiding a bunch of us as of late..."

"Why is that?"

"I was hoping you knew."

The master spy offers a word of commendation and appreciation for their friendship through the years, letting her pretend smile fall flat once Olga has left the room.

Natasha reaches for her device with an unrestrained eye roll, sore from the punches to her shoulder and cheek. She shifts uncomfortably with an overwhelming nausea as she texts;

'I miss you.'

Natasha waits eagerly as the bubbles appear;

'I miss you more,' She chuckles as a second reply fills the empty space, 'Alex thinks your pillow is up for grabs. Lucy is on our couch swearing over a math problem.'

Her fingers swipe along the keys, 'Teach her some Russian for me. What are u boys up to.'

'He's memorized an analysis on biochemical reactions.'

'Smart dog.'

'How was day 2?'

'Would've been better spent with you.'

She awaits his reply, the bubbles appearing only to disappear. She craves the warmth and protection in his hold. She lifts her device and abruptly interjects;

'I could use a nausea subsiding herb that you force into a nasty cup of tea.'

He types so slow with a need to analyze each response. She's on edge waiting a reply. With a soft chuckle she dials his com instead. A sense of calm is triggered with his sweet greeting;

"Hi Tasha."

"Hi Vrach."

. . . . . . . . . . . . .